


Tempt

by blahblah69



Category: Original Work
Genre: Anal Sex, Bondage, Control, F/F, F/M, First Time, Gay, Gay Male Character, Gay Sex, Humiliation, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Original Character(s), Sex, Smut, Verbal Abuse, Verbal Humiliation, power
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-18
Updated: 2018-03-18
Packaged: 2019-04-04 01:14:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14008962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blahblah69/pseuds/blahblah69
Summary: Mr Sherington's powerful job allows him to take control of those he needs to. Collectively he enjoys sleeping with both female and males, one a day, each in rotation. As he selects which will submit and dominate him he in unable to read a new girl, Agatha, who he fears maybe more than he bargained for. Together they explore new things about each other in amidst the violent and humiliating path that leads them together.





	Tempt

When Agatha met Mr. Sherington she had long luscious hair, naturally brown with a tinge of red. The streaks poured from the top of her scalp and twisted and turned their way down past her shoulders, like green vines in the jungle.  
As a child she was always complimented on her hair, how she would tie it back, the bows she used to bring out the red colouring. She began to appreciate her hair the older she got, all through High School her group of friends were jealous of it, “I wish I had hair like yours” remembers Agatha.  
One day Agatha dyed it a light blonde, “What did you do to your beautiful hair Agatha?” her Mum yelled at her, not in an aggressive way but more of a “what a shame it is” type of tone.  
Agatha hated that she had dyed her hair too. Standing in the bathroom of her mothers 70s style apartment, outdated as it was ugly. Agatha held scissors to the end of her hair. She was going to cut it and re-dye it. But she couldn’t bring herself to do it though. She couldn’t let it go that short, she loved her hair too much.  
At a time, Agatha believed she might become a hairdresser, though her aspirations in life were greater. She never told people this fearing she would be insulting, like a hairdresser wasn’t a worthy profession. She just felt like she was destined for greater.  
Now, she had her own apartment. No weird shaggy green carpet like her mothers run down home. No, she had her own place now.  
Ironically, she missed that shaggy 70s carpet that she had always dreamed of getting away from. It was more comfortable than the modern alternate. Angela thought this as she ran her hands through the carpet floor of her bedroom. Tears running down her face, pooling and combining at her chin. She nudged the tears out of her eyes with her shoulders. She holds back screams and moans from her mouth.  
“Agatha open the door! Please!” cries her mother. There were a whole mess of people in her apartment banging down the door to her bedroom.  
“Don’t come in! Stay away!” Agatha screams back, trying to overcome the many voices on the other side of the door. But they don’t care.  
Agatha gently dragged her fingers over the hard carpet, bringing them to the ankle of her lightly bandaged left foot. Agatha softly inserting her fingertips inside the bandages begins to unravel it. The bandages loosening their grip as they come undone.  
The blood and scaring of her ankle had hardened, the wound still covered in pus. She had been branded with the hot end of iron forcefully nudged onto her delicate skin.  
Agatha moved her eyes from her permanently scared body to the door of her room as it bursts open, her mother and others running in to her.  
Agatha holds her hands up to the door, covering herself from the light and the people around her.  
“What happened, what did he do to you?” says Agatha’s mother, kneeling on the floor beside her. She looks at her daughter with unsettled eyes. Agatha’s hair completely shaved off. She goes to comfort her daughter, but she curls away further into the corner of the darkened room.  
“Agatha please?” the mothers eyes move down from her daughter’s bare scalp to her red scared ankle. “He branded you? He fucking branded you.”  
The initials of a man burned into Agatha’s skin, the initials ‘B.S.’  
Bernard Sherington. 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Like a gun going off the door slammed shut.  
Wesley stood in a three-piece suit, tightly fitted, tailored to his slim figure. He wore reading glasses that seemed glued to his eyes. He didn’t look nerdy though, they suited him.  
He glanced around the room, the walls covered in mirrors, the floor made of hard wood. The large room resembled something of a ballet training studio. Perhaps at some time in the buildings past it was.  
Wesley’s eyes slowly begin to scan the room, looking down on the people in front of him.  
There were 15 chairs seated in the middle of the room, each filled with a naked man or woman, they sat still staring back at Wesley. The alignment of chairs went boy girl boy girl, 8 boys, 7 girls. Bare, stripped of their emotion, their bodies completely on show. Some of them sat ashamed of their bodies, others looked around at the rest of their competition. Some looked straight forward at Wesley. Agatha looked at nobody, she simply stared at the ground.  
A man sat, his legs parted his, body completely on display, another man his legs folded over trying to conceal himself. A girl sat covering up herself with her hands. Another shuffled in her seat in discomforted.  
Their ages aged from 18 to 40, all of them unique in their own ways from ethnicity to height to weight.  
Wesley turned from the naked group to his right-hand side to find a wooden chair sitting next to him. Forcefully he picked it up and dragged it along the floor as he briskly walked to the centre of the room.  
He stands behind the chair and gazes upon the woman that looks directly at the ground. He picks up the chair and slams it to the floor, its sounds echo through the room. Agatha lifts her head and gazes upon Wesley’s face for the first time. She then sits back in her chair maintaining his eye contact.  
Wesley then takes a seat on the chair, spreading out, he undoes the button on his suit and lets it sway open revealing his vest. He hangs his arm over the back of the chair and looks upon everyone with more detail. Like a lion ready to pounce he looks ready to feast.  
He slowly licks his lips then sucks his bottom lip into his mouth, releasing it with a pop he jumps up out of his chair.  
He looks straight ahead at Agatha’s bare body. He takes a few steps forward to her.  
“Name?” he questions.  
“Agatha” she replies quietly.  
“Louder”.  
She clears her throat, “Agatha”.  
He nods at her. Reaching behind his jacket to the back of his pants taking a white clear notepad from it, he then takes a pencil from his pocket and begins to write, taking a few steps back from Agatha.  
She continued to stare at him now, some in the room were intrigued by the mans dominating presence. Agatha was more interest in his eyes. How small they were, the bags that sat under them. She wondered if maybe he even needed the glasses, or if they were to simply to hide a default of his face, something he was ashamed of.  
“I have five spots available” commanded Wesley, his voice deep, echoing through the room like his chair. “If I ask you to go to your left, you will exit the room, gather your clothes and and follow security out of the building back to your mode of transport. If you are asked to go right, you will remain naked, and continue on to the contracting area for further inspection”.  
Agatha swallowed in anticipation, the intimidation of the man’s control beginning to settle in.  
“Mr Sherington has very direct and specific-“ Wesley’s pronunciation of specific lingered on his tongue as he rolled the word off. “Specific instructions and tastes this season”.  
Wesley walks up to the beginning of the line towering over a man who sits with his legs crossed.  
“Open” he commands, the man spreads his legs revealing his length to Wesley. “What’s your weight?”  
“80, sir”.  
“Kilograms?”  
The man nods in reply.  
“Stand” commands Wesley. The man stands up revealing his six pack.  
Agatha watches on at the man, Wesley slowly wraps his hand around the young mans dick tugging at it. “What’s your body fat?”  
The man gulps at the feeling of Wesley touching his privates. “Its, ahh, 11%...sir”.  
Wesley lets go of him. Looks him up and down again. “Right”.  
The man nods with compliance and walks out of the room heading to the right.  
Wesley walks skipping the next person and approaches a rather large lady, both in height and weight.  
“Stand”.  
The woman complies. Her tits are large, they sag at her weight, her gut moves down her body nearly covering her vagina. “Right”. The woman moves out of the room at a swift pace.  
He then moves to a black man, Wesley goes to talk but the man stands up before he can.  
“Did I ask you to stand?”  
The man shakes his head.  
Wesley looks him up and down, from the red head of his cock sitting outside its shell to his well-defined jaw line. The black man becoming hard as he glares over his naked competition.  
Wesley moves past the man writing down something as he walks. The black man goes to sit back down. “Stay standing” Wesley interjects, the man complies.  
Wesley now stands over an older woman, he uses his pencil to lift her boob up as she sits, she accepts, obviously uncomfortable.  
He then trails the pencil down her body to her legs, making them part to reveal her vagina.  
“Could you not prod me like I’m a fucking animal” she says looking up at Wesley.  
He shifts his head at her comment, agitated by it, “Left”.  
She gets up and leaves. Wesley stares at her as she walks away shaking his head.  
Wesley makes his way back to the black man, he glances down at Agatha as she watches him move around the room. His footsteps almost sound calculated and precise.  
“Bend over” he commands the man. The man proceeds and turns around revealing his ass to Wesley.  
“Have you ever been with a man before”.  
“No” replies the man.  
Wesley take his pencil, placing the eraser end of it at the beginning of the mans ass crack and slowly slides it down. He stops as he reaches his balls. He prods them a few times.  
“Right”.  
The man leaves the room.  
Wesley exhales with exhaustion rubbing his eyes with his fingers moving his glasses from his head.  
He then takes his chair sliding it along the hardwood floor he sits it in front of Agatha.  
He takes a seat on it directly across from her, their legs slightly touching.  
“Your pants feel nice on my skin” states Agatha, “What are they made of, cotton?”  
“Did I ask you to talk” replies Wesley.  
“I don’t know, what do you see an invitation into dimly lit room to sit in a cold wooden chair completely naked while a man takes a first glance at you and dismisses you as? I think that should let me talk”.  
“Funny, you seemed so shy” says Wesley, curiously trying to calculate the woman’s behaviour.  
“I was, I still am. But I’m beginning to find this all more humorous then intimidating. That’s making me feel a little better”.  
“Have you been with a man before?” questions Wes.  
“Yes”.  
“Have you ever been with a woman?”  
“No” replies Agatha.  
Wesley rolls his eyes, “Would-“  
“Would I consider it?” says Agatha completing his sentence. “Maybe I would, if I got me enough cash to buy a suit made of the same fabric as your pants”.  
Wesley exhales through his nose. Agatha is unsure as to whether that is a laugh or a motion of agitation. “Do you consider yourself funny?” he asks.  
“No, anyone who is funny doesn’t admit it”.  
“I liked you more when you didn’t talk”.  
Agatha doesn’t reply.  
“Do you need this job?” he questions again. Still he is only met with silence. He looks down at his notepad to remind himself of her name: “Agatha?”  
“Oh I can talk now?” she perks up.  
“Left” Wesley says dismissing her. He stands up taking his chair with him back to the centre of the room.  
Agatha remains seated.  
Wesley turns around still seeing the woman sitting in her chair. “I said left”, he repeats.  
Agatha stays seated. She stares right at him. Wesley swallows his aggression for a moment. He cracks his neck to the side.  
“You maybe go right”.  
Agatha conceals her grin as she stands up and proceeds to walk out of the room. She didn’t think the walk to the door would feel so long but it does, she can feel the eyes watching her leave, staring at her body. Wondering how she just got accepted into the next round.  
Agatha reaches the door and stretches out her hand for the door knob. She turns it.  
“Don’t expect to make it past the next room!” Wesley calls out to her. As she turns back around to look at him the door closes behind her.  
A woman stands in front of Agatha now. “Hello”, she announces, her voice is kind and soft.  
“Hi” replies Agatha, retreating, embarrassed by her own nudity.  
The woman takes a blanket and hands it to Agatha. Agatha accepts smiling back as a thank you.  
“You’ve fucked yourself. You know that right?”  
“Excuse me?” asks Agatha, wrapping the blanket around herself.  
“You just embarrassed Mr Sherington’s offsider. In front of other competition too. He’s going to humiliate you”.


End file.
